Tale as Old as Time
by PennyBug
Summary: Elizabeth Morgan, aged twenty-five, was on the run. Bucky Barnes/OC
1. Free

_Boom._

The tinkering sound of a floor being impounded on by falling glass filled her ears. The smell of smoke barreled around her, pulled her into it's tender embrace to protect her from the damage she had done.

Her arms were still outstretched and shook like a leaf in the wind, her eyes trained on the man in the floor only feet from her. She could feel the dried blood that trailed down from her nose, the metallic taste nearly made her gag, and inhaled shakily as a warm tear rolled down her swollen cheek and sank into the expanse of white carpet.

Blood pooled around his frame through the large, jagged hole in his side- a promise to stain the floor beneath them to remind her of exactly what she accomplished, of exactly who she had killed.

She glanced to the blonde haired man on the floor, his expensive new sports jacket stained red by his own blood, and felt a wave of anger. For months she had endured life by his rules, enforced by him; he same rules that she was encouraged to listen to, if not by mouth then by his hand.

That evening had been a particularly bad day. Alan was angry from work and began to take his frustrations out on her, more violently than usual.

_"'Lizabeth," his drunken drawl echoed through the parlor, interrupting her from the work she had hoped to finish by the night. "Get in here, woman, and welcome me home like good girl should."_

_She swirled the paintbrush in the glass of water to clean it and rolled her eyes with a huff. "I'm in the back room, Alan. I'm working on a piece."_

_His loud footsteps tumbled down the hallway, each one became louder until finally he was in her sight. His dark, curly hair was even more mussed than before, which was a difficult feat to accomplish in itself, most likely from him pulling it by the roots as he did when upset, his eyes trained on her._

_"I believe asked you to come to me," he said as he stumbled toward her. He rubbed his large hand across his face in distress, his glare wild._

_Elizabeth's jaw went slack from shock when she saw his keys dangling from his hand. "Tell me you brought a cab home."_

_"The fuck I did," he bellowed. "I have a car, what's the use of not drivin' it when I want?"_

_She chuckled humorlessly, her eyes crinkled at the sides. "What's the use of having a car that's so junked out you can't use it? Cause that's what's gonna happen when you wreck it, Al."_

_"Don't run your mouth at me, woman." He warned lowly. "I ain't in the mood for none of your bullshit."_

_Elizabeth sighed. "Go to bed, Al."_

_Without a word Alan strolled toward her, his arms extended out in a fit of rage, and pinned her against the wall. She felt the breath leave her lungs as he crushed her between him and the hard surface, her eyes closed on impact. Her hands flailed in an attempt to escape, but it only earned her a bit more pressure around her wrists._

_"Get off," she growled, using her elbows to push herself away from the wall. "Alan, get off!"_

_Alan whirled around and pushed her to the floor, then climbed on top of her to bring his face closer to hers, his glassy orbs searched her face in a haze. "Ain't goin' nowhere."_

_Elizabeth flinched as he crashed his hand across her face, tears instantly filled her eyes. He raised his palm again, only this time it was curled into a fist before it fit her. Blood pooled in her mouth and her lip burned like hell, but she fought against it. In desperation she raised her knee with a great force, catching him between his legs- exactly where she had aimed - and he rolled off of her with a groan._

_Quickly she raised to her feet and began to run, her feet carrying her unsteadily through the hallway. She felt her footing begin to loosen, and she crashed onto the parlor floor. She crawled toward her purse, that sat beside the sofa, and made work of digging through her belongings until she felt the metal in her hand. She raised it from the bag, pointing it down the hallway with purpose._

_Alan hunkered through the doorway, his broad shoulders swayed as he moved toward her. His eyes were blazing._

_"Oh, you gonna shoot me?"_

_Elizabeth's arms had began to shake, her nose pouring blood down the front of her clothes. "Back away from me, Alan. Back away or I swear to God I'll shoot."_

_"You think I'm afraid 'o you? A whiny, stupid little who-"_

_The shot rang in her ears as she watched him fall to the floor in a lifeless heap. _

Elizabeth's legs had began to shake, but she knew she had to leave. She raced through the house to gather anything she might need rummaging through her closet, throwing articles of clothing behind her in a haste until finally she unearthed exactly what she'd been looking for.

An old, dirty suitcase that smiled up at her from the bottom of the closet, its metallic teeth shimmering in the evening light.

Quickly she gathered a portion of her belongings, throwing them in by the handfuls - a few changes of clothes, her wallet and the picture that had sat by her bedside for as long as she could remember - and crammed them into the brown case.

In the bathroom, Elizabeth maneuvered herself between the bathtub and the toilet. In a desperate haste she dropped he lid from the back of the tank, flinching as it broke into pieces from the impact of the linoleum floor, and plunged her hand into the cold water within.

Her search was urgent, her fingers grasping for the small bag she taped in it's depths. She almost sobbed when she couldn't find it.

Her lip quivered as anxiety began to take over and plunged both hands into the water, moving frantically around the bowl, splashing water everywhere, until finally she felt the slimy exterior of the plastic and carefully pulled it to the surface; two thousand dollars stared back at her, urging her to move, to get out while she still could.

The hallway was small, but she quickly made due turning sideways until she reach the mouth of their home, of his home. She glanced to the left to make sure the man was still down, then swallowed to keep from helping him, her inner nurse's attempt to shine through. Her hand reach out to grasp the doorknob, ready to make her exit, but stopped when she caught a glimpse of herself in the bloodstained mirror.

One of her dark eyes was almost swollen shut, the other saddened by it's twin's appearance. A large cut on the side of her mouth mocked her as her full lips pulled into a frown.

She glanced back over to the man she had been trapped with for years, a sneer on her lips, and then she left.

* * *

She'd been driving for nearly five hours, and her legs pleaded to be stretched. Her fingers ached from being crouched in the same position for so long, gripping the wheel with an intensity she didn't knew she possessed and her stomach rumbled loudly, it was then she realized it had been nearly a day since she'd last eaten.

She saw a pitiful dwelling sitting on the left of the road, and turned into the driveway.

It was a small, wooden building nestled between the highway and a hillside, just a few hundred miles outside of Washington DC. A picture of a cow was hand painted onto it's side to give it a bit more of it's own personality, but she just thought it made it look tacky- they could have at least hired a professional.

Elizabeth plucked an old jacket from the floorboard of the car to cover her suitcase until she came back to her car, just in case a thief might make his way to her car. She couldn't risk having everything she had worked for to be stolen.

Her finger came down onto the button on the door pannel, usually used to lock a vehicle, but she wasn't surprised at all when they failed to move.

_That's what buying a used car does for you._

She used her finger to push the lock into place before slamming the door, she didn't fight the sigh slipped her lips as the window rattled helplessly when the door connected against the hunk of metal.

Her hands were burrowed deep into the pockets of her jacket to conserve body heat.

The bitter November wind condensed the water her breath, which came in rapid puffs that mingled with the the small snowflakes that fell from the darkening sky, that turned to a smoky cloud and she shivered. The joints in her legs screamed in relief as she stretched them to begin walking, careful not to slip on a patch of ice just outside the doorway.

Elizabeth forced her eyes from the sidewalk to the door. A man, tall and frail, stood behind the glass with a warm smile and opened the door for her to pass through.

"Chilly out there," he said, his old voice crackly. "Let's get you a cup of coffee to warm you back up, what do you say?"

Elizabeth nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

The man hobbled around the wooden island inside, and poured a large cup to the brim with fresh, steaming coffee. His small, dark eyes peered up at her from behind a set of busy brows before he offered her a small grin. "Anything to eat for you?"

"A cheeseburger," Elizabeth said lightly, wrapping her fingers around the mug for a bit of warmth. "No mayonnaise."

He gave a solitary nod. "Comin' right up."

The smell in the establishment was nearly too much for her to bear- it was as if she were sitting in the midst of the grease they used to deep fry the potatoes. Unconsciously she wiped her hands to rid them of the imaginary slickness she felt as she thought about the process the food was prepared, and sighed. If she had it her way she could have been eating a salad, or a bowl of fruit.

Within ten minutes the man sat a plate before her, and to her surprise the burger she ordered smelled better than she could have ever imagined. She sank her teeth into the juicy sandwich, closing her eyes as she chewed the mouthful she possessed. She sipped at her coffee between bites until finally she had finished her entire meal.

Elizabeth wiped her mouth on the mass of napkins the man lay beside her plate, and pulled a ten dollars from the plastic bag in her purse that still dripped small beads of water. She ambled toward the cash register, money in hand and smiled at the man, and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

The man pushed his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose with a slender, freckled finger. "How was your food?"

"Filling," Elizabeth said with a smile and placed the ten on the counter. "Keep the change."

Wordlessly she strolled back through the door to settle into the cold, leather seat of her car. The engine sputtered to life, almost as if to beg for a one more moment's rest, but obliged all the same.

Cities rolled by disappearing into nothing more than blurred lights against the windshield in the darkness. Elizabeth Morgan's plan was no different than anyone else's who decided to leave home - she desired a change of scenery, a new job - she longed for a fresh start. She wanted to go to a place where no one knew her name, or anything she'd done.

She wanted to be free.


	2. Rainy Nights

The nights it rained were the nights Bucky slept the soundest.

There was nothing like the soft pitter, patter of the drops along the rooftop when he tried to get some rest- something he did without longer than some men live - and when sleep finally found him it wrapped him in it's clutches until morning.

Thankfully, it had rained the night before, so when he rose the that morning he was more rested than usual.

A sudden desire to stretch overtook his senses and unlike his usual, disciplined self, gave in, arching his back as a yawn flowed from his lungs. The distinct pull in his muscles loosened him, body and mind, so completely he let out a groan of satisfaction that was only amplified by the synchronized yawn. He scratched his stomach lightly underneath the thin fabric of his shirt before he stood from the bed.

Unconsciously his eyes flickered toward the long mirror that hang on the inside of the door, the yellow morning's light glinting from the hulking piece of machinery attached to his lived in constant reminder of his days as the Winter Soldier, of all the things he was forced to do _for the greater good. _Sometimes, when he was alone and silence surrounded him, he could hear the screams and pleas of people - only a portion of the ones he offed.

Bucky flexed the fingers on his left hand at the morbid memory, listening as he heard the sound of metal scratch metal, and sighed. He outstretched his arm and tore the door open. He padded down the hallway, the scent of waffles weighed heavily in the air, his hair half-up and mussed in a way only a deep sleep could produce.

From his spot of the sofa Steve offered him a gentle smile and nodded toward a plate of breakfast he left on the breakfast bar. "Waffles," he mumbled before returning to his sketchbook.

Bucky grumbled lightly and piled four crisps onto his plate and squeezed a design onto them with a bottle of syrup, then lazily walked to the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of orange juice. He maneuvered expertly around the furniture in the apartment and plopped down into the arm chair next to Steve, tearing a piece of food from the pile to fill his mouth.

"Anything new?" he asked while he chewed, bits of dough flying out of the corner of his mouth as he did so.

Steve grimaced at his friend's lack of manners, but responded with a shrug nevertheless. "No, nothing. There was a new baby monkey born at the zoo this morning, if that counts for anything - they named it Cookie."

A sound was made in the back of Bucky's throat, one that Steve knew was originated from disinterest on the topic, before he gave a simple nod. Steve watched him for a moment longer and let a swallowed a sigh harshly, still unused to his new behavior. "So are you doing anything today?"

"No." Bucky swallowed his food with a mouthful of orange juice and set his fork down onto his plate with a clatter. "You?"

Steve shook his head lightly, every hair on his head still in place. "Nothin."

A loud crash echoed through the apartment complex's hallway, just outside of their door, sending them both in defense mode. They were immediately prepared, both in guarded positions; Steve grabbed his shield from the shelf Tony had prepared for him, while Bucky grabbed a knife from the holder on the bar.

They locked eyes and slowly inched toward the door, each step bringing them closer to what they perceived as danger - for all Bucky knew it could've been Hydra coming to take him back, and he vowed to himself the moment he began to seek Steve for help that he would never go back.

An unspoken plan was created between them. Bucky gave a nod, sending up a silent prayer, and Steve returned it before inching closer to the door, hunched behind his shield; with a deep breath the Captain peered through the peephole.

Bucky stood behind him, his shoulders tensed. "Well?"

Steve turned around, a light blush on his face from being in such a tizzy, a small smile on his face. "New neighbor."

Directly outside their door stood Samuel Wilson, and trailing behind him was a small, brunette tugging along a large suitcase. Steve lowered his shield, as did Bucky with the knife, and opened the door fully. Steve stepped into the hallway with a friendly smile, and Bucky opted for his usual, emotionless expression.

Sam, having heard the door open, spun to face them. "He-ey, guys." he greeted. "This is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is Steve and Bucky, your new neighbors. You won't have any trouble with them, they're chill."

"Nice to meet you." Steve said casually, leaning against the door frame. Bucky simply gave an acknowledging nod toward her.

Elizabeth nodded, her ponytail following in a silky rhythm behind her. "You too."

Bucky studied the woman, his trained eyes easily uncovering the nasty bruise around her eye, as well as her slowly healing busted lip. He knew by the way she held her shoulders that she was nervous, but did nothing to ease her discomfort.

She was, by no means, an ugly woman - much the opposite. Her hair was long and brown, a rich color that he associated with dark chocolate - curling at the end of her ponytail - and her eyes were nearly the same shade. She was also very small, not as curvy as Natasha and somehow not as frail as Pepper and shorter than both. Bucky also noticed the array of different colors caked beneath her fingernails.

He was brought back to the conversation by Steve's sharp elbow in his rib.

"Right Buck?" Steve said.

He glanced around him, feeling everyone's eyes on him and pulled his sleeve over his left hand. "Uh, yeah."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes softening at the trio, before a sigh slipped between her plump lips. "It's been nice meeting you, all of you, but if I don't call my parents they're going to blow their tops."

"If you need anything you know where we are," Steve said lightly. "Have a good evening, Elizabeth."

Bucky gave her a small nod and headed back into the apartment, curious about the bruises on the newest tenant.

When they all settled, Sam was the first to speak. "Did you see her eye?"

"Yeah, I was going to ask you the same thing," Steve said back. "I'm not passing judgement or anything - for all we know she could've been hit in the face by a bird - but I think we should be a bit more careful for a while. Just until we get a little information on her."

Sam nodded in agreement, and both looked to Bucky, who for the millionth time that day, simply gave them a nod.

* * *

Elizabeth smiled to herself as she entered her new apartment, even as empty as it was she couldn't shake the feeling of hope - and that was something she hadn't experienced in three long years.

The walls were a light beige, a color that before that day she would have scowled at, and the floors a dark mahogany. In the middle of the room sat a red sofa that somehow meshed perfectly with the colors around her, accented with two end tables that matched the floor.

White drapes covered the two windows behind the kitchen sink, which was connected to the living room seamlessly, with all of the appliances the same shade.

Two bedrooms were at the end of the hall, as well as a small bathroom, but it was all she needed.

It was simple, beautiful.

Elizabeth walked back into the kitchen and sat at the table, the wood cool beneath her fingertips. She quickly opened her purse and extracted her new phone, she had thrown her old one away for safety measures, and dialed a number she knew by heart. Her heart rate quickened with each ring - she didn't really have a plan, so far she had gotten by on the seat of her pants, and now she didn't know how she would gather the nerve to break her mother's heart - leaving wasn't easy for her, for either of them, but maybe she'd understand, maybe-

_"Hello, you have reach the Morgan residence. We aren't at home right now, but if you leave your name and number we'll get back to you. God Bless."_

Elizabeth sniffed back tears and exhaled a shaky breath. "Mom, whatever you hear in the next few days, know that I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I'm not in Georgia anymore, but I'm safe." she bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering, "I can't tell you where I am, but I'll call you every day. Just don't tell anyone I called, okay? I need you to do that for me. I lov-" _Beeeeeeeep._

She snapped the prepaid phone shut and glanced around her, taking in the bare walls with a frown. Raising from her chair, she strolled over to her suitcase to retrieve the one thing that would truly make this place her home.

The picture in her hand held a special place in her heart. She lay back onto the couch, and hugged the framed memory to her chest as she began to drift into a much welcomed sleep.

* * *

The next day Elizabeth found herself wandering up the stairs, the flats on her feet sliding carelessly against her heel causing a large, angry blister to form.

She half grimaced- half smiled as she reach the top of the stairs, kicking off her shoes before she made it to her door. She damned the articles and threw them harshly in the garbage can that sat at the end of the hall, smiling as the loud _tink_ echoed through the hallway, and continued her journey to her apartment.

A familiar voice halted her. "Elizabeth?"

She whirled toward the sound to face a smiling Steve Rogers, who held the towel around his neck at both end, his large hands gripping it tightly, looking at her feet curiously. "Don't like your shoes anymore?"

"No," she chuckled with a shake of her head. She lifted her foot to show him the new wounds that sat identically on the backs of her feet, "they were a little too big so I trashed them."

He nodded his head slowly, a slight frown on his lips. "Oh, I see."

She opened her mouth to respond, but was promptly stopped by a looming figure in the doorway- Bucky. He stared at her momentarily, his shapely lips pressed into a tight line, then looked to his friend. He side stepped him to squeeze through the small space between Steve and the door.

"I'll be downstairs." Bucky's voice sounded gruff from sleep.

Elizabeth furrowed her brows, nearly knitting them together. She raised her arms slightly and pretended to sniff herself. "Do I smell?"

Steve gave a snort of breathy laughter and stepped forward in his friend's footsteps. "Of course not. He is right, though, we're on a tight schedule." He bounced down a few steps and suddenly stopped, turning toward the girl. "Do you run?"

"Only in the evenings," she replied, "near nighttime."

Steve croaked with disappointment in the back of his throat. "Too bad. See ya, Elizabeth."

Bucky leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairs impatiently with a frown. His arms were crossed over his chest almost daring Steve to question his stance. Steve quirked a brow at his friend's stature, but declined to comment, watching as he pushed himself off the wall with a small kick.

"Everything all right there, Buck?" He asked him lightly, strolling past him and opening the door.

"Nothing."

Steve finished off the last of his water, hurling the bottle into the trash bin nearly ten feet away, smiling as it went in. "You sure?"

Bucky did nothing to hide his aggravation, slowing his steps down considerably so Steve could join him. "Why'd you invite _that girl_ to run with us?"

"_Elizabeth_," Steve reprimanded. "And why not? We're neighbors now, Buck, may as well make the best of it, right?"

"Don't like it," came his simple response. "She's too peppy."

"Too peppy?" Steve turned to face the man slowly, his wide shoulders made the move even more dramatic, a playful smile on his face. "Come on. What, do you have a crush on her?"

"Hell no," he sneered, his upper lip curled in disgust. "What kind of question is that?"

"I don't know," Steve shrugged his shoulders nearly to his ears and began to jog away, not before turning back to shout, "just a question. Now let's get goin, I'll meet you there!"

Bucky did little to speed up his steps as he watched Steve bolt ahead of him easily. He fingered the hair tie around his right wrist for a moment before pulling his limp, brown hair into a ponytail before breaking out into a light jog.


End file.
